Encroach
by Jem Kallop
Summary: Marik and Bakura finally have some peace, living a comfortable life together in a shared apartment. But they would be wise to remember that they are not alone in their bodies, as the spirits locked away in the soul rooms are getting restless. Marik and Bakura will not be at peace for long. Thiefshipping and deathshipping, rated for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Now, I know that those of you who read my other stories are probably thinking: 'What? She's starting another one? But she hasn't even finished her other fics yet!" To which my reply is: I'm an idiot. Aheh. Basically, this new chaptered story is being written for purely selfish reasons, because I love the idea and it won't leave me alone. Of course, this doesn't mean that my other stories will be ignored, as I will absolutely still be updating them and they WILL be finished, so look out for those too if you're interested. ^_^**

**So, onto the new idea! This plot came from the wonderful CursiveBlade13, who is a dear friend to me. She gave me a great idea and it kept growing and growing in my skull until it became this monster, which will really not leave me alone. It's AU, but Marik and Bakura still share bodies with Yami Marik and Ryou Bakura respectively, and the Millennium Rod and the Millennium Ring exist. There is thiefshipping and deathshipping, with established thiefshipping right from the start, and I'm hoping it will be updated fairly regularly (depending on what my health is doing). So, after that monster of an AN, I hope you enjoy it!**

**Warnings: Rated M for violence and bad language. At the moment I have no plans to write smut in this story, but I will let you know at the start of each chapter if that changes. There are obvious mentions of established boy/boy relationships, though. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: No suing me, please. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Kazuki Takahashi does. XD**

Chapter 1

"Marik, where the fuck are the scissors?!"

Bakura stormed out of the kitchen and through the living room, attempting to track down the only other man who lived there. Fists clenched by his sides as Bakura stalked through the rooms, still not finding Marik. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Calm down, Bakura, I'm in the bathroom!" A nasally, irritating voice floated through the air. Bakura growled when he caught amusement in its tone. "Can't you live without me for five minutes?"

Bakura snarled. "Insolent brat." In truth, his heart instantly calmed when he heard Marik's voice and knew where he was, but there was no way Bakura was about to admit that; Marik's ego was already inflated enough. Instead, Bakura leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, ensuring to include just the right amount of venom in his tone. "You've been in my kitchen again and the scissors are gone. Where the fuck are they?"

"I don't know," Marik chorused brightly. The sound of the toilet flushing sounded through the walls and then the door opened wide, revealing a blond dark man with a bright grin. He smirked when he caught sight of Bakura hovering over him. "Have you checked the pantry?"

"Why the hell would they be in the pantry?" Bakura glowered.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Marik grinned, watching with amusement as Bakura's temper flared again. "It's where I always put them."

Bakura snapped. "Yeah, and it's always where I tell you _not_ to put them, because it makes no fucking sense! The pantry is for food. _Food_ goes in the pantry, nothing else, so why the hell you feel the need to put scissors in there will never fail to frustrate me."

"Good." Marik's lips stretched, his expression practically beaming happiness, which only served to make Bakura's glower deepen. "I have made it my personal life goal to keep you frustrated."

Bakura growled dangerously, advancing, but Marik retreated with a bright laugh into the living room, calling over his shoulder, "Hurry up and make dinner, slave! I'm hungry!"

"Oh _fuck_ no." Bakura strode deliberately after Marik, easily catching up with him in the living room. Marik quickly darted around the other side of the sofa, his laughing violet gaze alighting on Bakura's deep brown glare, grin resplendent across his features.

"Catch me if you can!" Marik taunted, retreating as Bakura advanced, keeping the sofa between them as a safety net. Bakura growled and moved quickly, feinting left whilst running right and finally getting around the sofa. He backed Marik up with a feline grace, his lips twisting up into a smirk as his eyes narrowed to predatory slits.

"You shouldn't taunt a hunter, Marik," Bakura practically purred. "You should know that by now."

Shivers racked down Marik's spine at the low, seductive tone, but he kept his cool with an arrogant tilt of his head. "And you should know better than to underestimate me." With a final wicked grin, Marik darted away from Bakura and through towards the kitchen, tossing over his shoulder, "Make me food, asshole!"

"Fucking brat!" sounded from behind Marik as he shot across the room, but he barely made it three steps before a heavy weight crashed into his back and he was sent tumbling to the floor.

"_There_," Bakura's deep dark voice growled. Marik panted heavily, attempting to twist only for Bakura to grab his shoulders and hold him down, leaning over him. "Behave yourself, Marik. You've been difficult enough as it is today."

"_I've_ been difficult? You're the one refusing to make me food." Marik squirmed against the carpet until Bakura flipped him over, his back landing on the carpet instead.

Bakura straddled Marik's hips and leered down at him, his hands landing on the carpet either side of Marik's head. Marik's breath caught in his throat when Bakura's fingers brushed across his face, delicious waves of happiness rolling along his veins the closer Bakura got to him.

"What was that about food?" Bakura murmured, hovering tantalisingly close to Marik. "Did you want me to go?"

Marik hissed, arching off the floor and grabbing Bakura's face between his palms. "I did. Now I want you right where you are."

Bakura's smirk remained firmly in place even as Marik pulled him down into a long, deep kiss. They rolled across the carpet, Marik's fingers moving to tangle in Bakura's hair when pale fingers found their way around a dark back, swiping softly at scarred skin. Marik deepened the kiss, his tongue tracking down Bakura's with a low chuckle. They exchanged kisses and soft touches until both were tired and lay curled happily together on the carpet, Bakura's head on Marik's chest, limbs entangled.

"This carpet is horrid." Marik's lips pursed, his brows furrowing as he surveyed the tattered, threadbare flooring around them. "We need to get a new one."

Bakura snorted softly, keeping his eyes closed. "It isn't exactly meant to be seen from this angle, idiot."

"Don't jump me then," Marik sniffed. He ran an absentminded hand through Bakura's hair as he continued talking, his nose upturning unpleasantly. "It's a horrid colour. Who picks grey for a carpet?"

"As opposed to purple?" Bakura scoffed.

Marik ignored him. "I mean, really, grey just sucks all the colour out. Even blue would be better, and that's a rubbish colour unless you're wearing it. Even then it is questionable."

Bakura elbowed him.

"We need a warm colour." Marik poked Bakura's stomach before continuing, his head tilting to the side. "Red, or yellow, something like that. Something that actually makes it feel like – AH!"

Bakura's eyes flew open and in an instant he was upright, his body automatically assuming the crouching stance of a hunter. He stared with worried eyes down at Marik, who still lying on the floor with one hand cradling his forehead. "What is it?"

"My head..." Marik trailed off with a grimace, his breathing heavy. He visibly flinched.

Bakura was beside him in a second, crouched with one hand extended to rest on his shoulder. "What is it? Does it hurt?"

"I..." Marik shook his head, blinking his eyes open and hiding the pain in their depths. "I'm fine. Just hungry." He gave a sheepish grin. "So you should go make that food. Asshole."

Bakura summoned up his traditional smirk, although his eyes were still clouded with worry. "You shouldn't have distracted me."

"_You_ were the one who jumped _me,_" Marik started with a small grin. "So don't you even bother trying to shift the bl-" He winced, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

Bakura watched him quietly before extending an arm and pulling Marik to his feet. "You're just hungry. Sit down and I'll cook."

"I'm fine." Marik swayed a little when he was back on his feet, leaning gratefully against Bakura and closing his eyes. "Just tired."

Bakura pursed his lips but didn't argue. He wrapped an arm about Marik's shoulders and led him slowly into the kitchen, sitting him down on a chair before proceeding to make them dinner.

They ate with a usual mix of their teasing banter, but Marik still occasionally grimaced in pain, one hand often going to massage his forehead. Bakura watched and noted each small incident, finishing off his food with quick snaps of his jaw, his gaze constantly trained on Marik. Shows of emotion, even pain, between the two were rare, so Bakura did not take lightly even one little grimace that crossed Marik's features.

Once they had both finished – Marik's food only really picked at, despite his claims of hunger – Bakura disposed of both their plates and wordlessly placed a packet of headache tablets and a glass of water in front of Marik before continuing through to the living room. Marik sent him a small, grateful smile, downing the tablets. He waited a few moments before standing up slowly from the table, resting clenched fists against the wood with closed eyes, tension in every muscle. He moved slowly, dizzily, waiting for the world to stop spinning before placing the glass carefully on the counter. Marik turned and headed back into the living room, smile lighting his features when he saw Bakura sprawled out on the sofa in front of a film. Bakura caught his eye and smirked, beckoning.

Marik went to him wordlessly, curling up beside him on the sofa. Their legs entangled naturally, their arms winding around each other and heads resting together, Marik burying his aching forehead in Bakura's chest.

"Fucking bastard," Bakura muttered in his ear, the pale fingers stroking softly through Marik's hair a direct contrast to his words.

Marik smiled, burrowing further into Bakura. "Love you too."

"Sappy bollocks." Bakura pulled Marik closer to him, though, lightly nuzzling the blond head resting against his own. The two of them watched the film through to its end, a second starting as the sun dipped ever lower below the horizon. Marik grew more and more tense the longer the film went on. He curled closer to Bakura, burying his head in his clothing, breathing in the painfully familiar scent and releasing a low growl.

Bakura sighed loudly. "What's wrong with you, idiot?"

"My damn head." Marik grunted, clutching at his temples as he lay close to Bakura. "It really hurts."

"You took those tablets, right?" Bakura carefully kept the worry out of his tone as he held Marik closer, lightly massaging the skin of his forehead.

Marik growled in response, lying on Bakura for another moment before jumping away and landing on his feet, instantly walking out of the living room. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Bakura watched him leave with worry folding his features, not that he would ever allow Marik to see that. After a few minutes and a low grumble, Bakura clambered to his feet and wandered after his foolish Egyptian partner, lips pursing and footsteps heavy. Bakura entered the hallway and stopped outside the bathroom door, cocking his head as he attempted to listen. "Ishtar?"

Silence.

"Ishtar? Are you alright?" Bakura closed the distance to the bathroom door and knocked loudly, once. There was still no immediate response.

Bakura sighed, frustrated. "Marik, I swear, if you ignore me I am going to break that door down and drag you out here, and then you're going to be sorry. Headache or not, you had better explain yourself.

There was a startled squeak, followed by a harsh cry. "Don't come in!"

Bakura blinked.

That voice was nothing like Marik's usual light-hearted tones. It was heavy and harsh, grating more than normal as it rocketed through the air, the words dropping like stones straight to the bottom of Bakura's stomach. The pale man frowned, his hands curling into fists by his sides as he leaned against the door, worry starting to clench his gut.

"Marik, why can't I come in?" Bakura headbutted the door, growling. "What's wrong with you now?"

There was a sniff. "N-nothing's wrong. Just go do the washing up and get ready for bed, I'll be out soon."

Bakura's jaw clicked. He disliked being told what to do at the best of times, but this was something altogether new; Marik had never before pushed Bakura away when he had a problem. In fact, oftentimes the situation was the almost exact opposite, as Marik would complain at Bakura over every tiny thing until the pale man was about ready to murder someone. Which he often did.

This was new behaviour indeed.

Still, Bakura did not necessarily have to panic right away. With one final whack on the door, Bakura grunted, "Fine, do whatever the hell you like. But you'd better get your ass into bed quickly, or there will be consequences, I promise you."

There was no response, again unusual, but Bakura dismissed it easily enough. Marik always had strange moods. He turned with a flick of white hair and re entered the kitchen, filling the sink with hot water and begrudgingly washing the dishes, knowing how much Marik liked to keep their apartment tidy. The Ring clattered around his neck as he worked but Bakura largely ignored it, wanting nothing to do with it or its weak inhabitant, despite him being the original owner of this body. It was Bakura's now, and he had absolutely no intention of giving up control.

The dishes were soon done so Bakura traipsed his way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, expecting to find Marik curled up in a ball on his side of the bed. The room was empty and the sheets cold, however, so Bakura tilted his head and frowned, lips pursing. "Ishtar? Hell, you're not still in the bathroom, are you?"

When the flat rang silent and cold, Bakura turned on his heel and strode straight back to the bathroom, giving the door a commanding knock. "Marik. Get the hell out here right now."

There was still no response.

"_Marik_." Bakura was usually a very patient man, but whenever the end of his tether came into sight it was usually because Marik was around. This was really taking the piss, though; Marik very rarely pushed Bakura this far. The flat felt cold, empty, and silent, the lights dimmed in the fast encroaching night and the air frozen and still in the cool of the evening.

Bakura frowned. "It's late, Marik. Have you fallen asleep in there?"

There was still no response and Bakura felt the beginnings of true anger stirring in his stomach.

"Ishtar, get the fuck out here! You really don't want to make me pick the lock. Fucking hell, you'd better not be hurt or dead, or I swear I'm going to kill you." With furious steps and a futile attempt to ignore the panic coiling in his gut, Bakura strode right up to the door and easily picked the lock, grasping the handle in one hand.

"_Don't come in."_

Bakura instantly froze.

That voice was dark and terrifyingly familiar. It was Marik's, but it wasn't Marik's. It throbbed with a low, deep, dark intensity, deeper even than Bakura's own, but it retained the vibrant tone of Marik's voice, using the same vocal chords for a different personality. It hummed through the air almost seductively, leaving shimmering patterns of fear in its wake. Even those three simple words sounded electric and terrifying in the cold empty air of the flat.

Bakura swore under his breath.

There was a low chuckle. "Ah, you know who I am, then? That _is_ good. No messy introductions needed."

That dark voice was completely unmistakable; such a dark, warped version of Marik's own could never come from the young man's own spirit. It may be using his lips, but it _certainly_ wasn't Marik. That thought alone caused a coil of anger to burst through Bakura's veins.

"No words to greet me? No hello?" The voice taunted, and Bakura could have sworn it sounded closer. He almost jumped, only his finely honed thief's reflexes keeping him in place, as his mind raced over several different possibilities of the best way to get out of this situation without either himself or Marik getting hurt.

At the moment, Bakura was drawing a blank.

"I'm sure you can do better than that." The dark voice was tinged with amusement, but it was all wrong. _Marik_ was meant to be laughing at Bakura, _Marik_ should be the one approaching the bathroom door and turning the handle, tugging on the wood to cause it to swing open. It should be _Marik_ Bakura was met with when he sent narrowed dark eyes in a deep glare at the figure standing in the door. A figure who most certainly wasn't Marik.

Lips stretched into a wide, wicked grin as darkened violet eyes glinted cruelly through the rapidly darkening apartment. "Well, hello there, Ring Spirit. Long time, no see."

Bakura swore loudly, wasting no more time as he flung himself at the evil form before him. "What the fuck are you doing here, you bastard? Get Marik back out here, now."

"Fuck no." The dark being caught Bakura's wrists, easily flinging him back; Bakura had forgotten how much stronger Marik's body was than his own borrowed pale form. He landed in a mess of tangled white hair against the opposite wall of the hallway. Spitting curses, Bakura nursed the back of his head before slowly climbing to his feet again, resting against the wall for support and waiting for the world to stop spinning. He studied the form in the doorway.

Blond hair spiked wildly as a brown head whipped around, dark violet eyes narrowing, picking out the details in the apartment with furrowed brows. "Where the fuck is this? Is -" he went quiet before a grin split his face in two, lips pulled back over teeth in a feral expression Marik's features had never known before. Bakura felt a sick twist in his gut. Marik's body should not be forced to look so ... so un-Marik-like.

"He's living with you, isn't he?" The dark being's dark voice tinged further with amusement as he sent chilling violet eyes towards Bakura. "My weak half is weak indeed to rely on someone like you. What the fuck do the two of you think you're doing?"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakura pursed his lips in thought, considering the form before him with a tilt of his head. Getting Marik back was top priority. Bakura didn't think past that.

Snarling, Bakura advanced on the dark being before him, only receiving an amused violet stare in return. "Give him back," Bakura started quietly. "Go back to your soul room and stay there."

Lips stretched. "Like fuck. Get out of my way – I'm going out."

"The hell you are." Bakura instantly placed himself between Marik's body and the front door, his eyes narrowing into a taunting stare. "Nice to have some freedom, is it? You won't have it for long, and you certainly won't be leaving this apartment."

Dark violet eyes narrowed. Bakura dropped into an anticipatory crouch, his fists clenching subtly as he tilted his head, continuing to taunt. "I know what it's like, locked away in the shadows of a mind. Boring, cold, and painful. I bet right now you're dizzy; suddenly being swamped by feelings and senses again is rather disorientating." Bakura's lips twitched into a smirk. "Shame you won't get to feel it for long."

A snarl ripped between Marik's lips as the dark being launched himself at Bakura. Bakura was ready for him, easily dodging to the side and catching his arms around Marik's waist, flinging his body onto the floor and landing on his back. This situation perfectly mirrored Bakura and Marik's teasing actions earlier, but this time it was all wrong. It may have been his body, but it wasn't Marik himself writhing underneath Bakura.

"Give him _back_." Bakura snarled the words right into the dark being's ear, holding him firmly against the carpet. The dark body seemed to lie submissive beneath him, blond hair flattening a little when Bakura's fingers wound around the back of his neck, squeezing roughly. Bakura hissed. "Now. Give Marik back _now_, you fiend."

Silence held for another moment before the dark voice chuckled. _Chuckled._ "That's right, Ring Spirit. Keep hurting Marik. I'm sure he just _loves_ you for that."

Bakura froze. "What the fuck are you talking about, bastard?"

"Isn't it obvious?" There was certainly laughter in the dark, horrid voice. "Every time you hurt me, you hurt Marik. So carry on, please! Anything you can do to weaken him will help me."

Bakura cursed loudly, instantly jumping off the dark being. Bakura whirled to face him the moment he was back on his feet, deliberately keeping himself between the door and Marik's body, eyes narrowed with hatred as they looked at the sprawled mass on the floor.

Dark violet eyes laughed up at him.

It took the evil half of Marik less than a second to be back facing Bakura, leering with dancing violet eyes. "Now what are you going to do? Can't hurt me without hurting him."

"Maybe not," Bakura snarled, dropping back into a crouch. "But there is no way in hell I am letting you leave until you have given him back."

Brown features instantly dropped, expression becoming a dark, severe glower. The dark being twisted Marik's lips, facing Bakura with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, advancing one, two steps without pause. "You can't hurt me," he leered, dark voice twisted with evil. "But I can hurt you. And you can't fight back!"

Before Bakura had time to move, the dark being was on top of him, lifting him easily and slamming him back into a wall. Bakura's eyes widened in shock. Marik's lips were stretched unnaturally wide, teeth glistening as the dark one slammed Bakura's head against the wall once, twice, relishing in the crack that resounded from the pale skull. Red dripped into white hair and Bakura's eyes glazed over, only causing the dark one to crack his head against the wall again.

The sensations were incredible.

The dark version of Marik had spent so long trapped in his soul room that he forgot how skin felt beneath his fingers, the beauty of blood as it dripped down fragile skin, the sheer power he gained when controlling another person. The fact that it was this Ring Spirit, someone who meant so much to Marik, only served to increase the sense of power that washed through his newly acquired veins.

_Let him go!_

Marik's voice was feeble and faint, locked somewhere deep in the back of the dark one's head. Lips widened into a grin. There was no way such a weak little spirit could get control back over this body now; Marik's pleading only made the dark one want to hurt Bakura more. Brown fingers wrapped around a pale neck, slamming him back into the wall again. There was a nasty _crack_.

_Release him at once!_

Marik was sounding more frantic. Good. He was going to enjoy this. Bakura was picked up bodily, hoisted further up against the wall and slammed back against it viciously. Blood dripped through white hair, brown eyes glazing over. Darkly tanned hands wound around a pale neck, squeezing viciously. Oh, the feeling of cracking bones, knowing how easily he could snap the fragile skin, red blood dripping down onto the floor past the broken and bleeding body...

_No!_

The scream in his head was painful in its intensity. The dark being was forced to release the pale neck without his consent, his body convulsing back a step before dropping down to the floor. A growl tore through his lips and he fought furiously, pushing back that tiny voice, quashing it absolutely. "Stay the fuck out of this!"

He had been distracted too long.

Bakura, bleeding and coughing and gasping for breath, launched himself forwards and toppled Marik's body over, forcing both of them down onto the carpet. Wheezing and gasping for breath, red fingerprints standing out vividly on his neck, Bakura pinned Marik's body by the simple expedient of lying on top of him, focusing on the weak spots in his body, jabbing an elbow into the crook of his neck.

"Give him back."

Bakura's tone was low and cracked, but commanding. Dark violet eyes scoffed up at him, brown lips twisting into a sneer as the body beneath him bucked. "Get the fuck off me."

"Marik." Bakura's voice was raspier than usual as he leaned closer, searching through those evil eyes to seek out the man he knew was hidden in there. "Marik, fight him off. I know you're still in there."

The eyes widened in horror. A screech sounded from the lips and the body convulsed, limbs flailing and legs kicking, but Bakura held him down.

_Let me out let me out LET ME OUT_

_No! Stay the hell out of this! You are too weak!_

_It's my body!_

_Not anymore!_

_Get OUT, body snatcher!_

And then the body went slack.

Bakura gasped and peeled back blond hair, his throat constricting with fear. What if Marik was gone? What if he had lost him forever? Bakura couldn't cope with that, he could never let that happen, not now, not after everything...

The head turned and wide violet eyes found his face, the chest heaving with sharp shallow breaths. "Bakura ... oh, thank the Gods, he didn't kill you..."

Bakura visibly dropped with relief when the familiar nasally tone reached his ears. He ducked his head and pressed his forehead against Marik's, drinking in the sight of him, his previously hard touches turning gentle and caressing. "Marik."

Violet eyes slid closed before he forced them open again. "It's me, but I don't know for how long ... he's going to come back, ah..."

"Shhh." Bakura cradled him, pressing light kisses to his forehead, clutching him tightly. "I won't let him come back. I won't let him take you away again."

"You can't stop him," Marik whispered, fear encroaching his tone. "I can't keep him away, and you can't stop him. He'll be back..."

"Then I will deal with him, and I'll get you back." Bakura's tone turned dark and he held Marik close, rocking him gently.

Marik shook. "He's coming. Oh Gods, he's furious ... Bakura, help me..."

"I'm here." Bakura gripped Marik's hair and forced the brown man to look at him, gazes meeting with a ferocious intensity. "He isn't going to win. I'm going to get you back."

"Promise me not to get hurt," Marik commanded. "Promise me."

Bakura growled, pressing his forehead against Marik's and glaring at him. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to get you back out here. I'm not living with that monster."

"He'll hurt you – ah..." Marik writhed under Bakura, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ow, no, go away..."

"I've got you." Bakura turned Marik back towards him, bending down to brush their lips together. "I've got you."

Marik kissed him back desperately, fingers fumbling in white hair. Bakura took that as a good sign and dived closer, so deep in the kiss that he didn't notice features morphing under him, blond hair spiking into thick chunks, violet eyes darkening and flying open. Bakura was forced out of his trance only when the grip in his hair turned painful, deliberately tugging out strands of white hair and causing Bakura's eyes to water. Bakura's heart sank when a laughing, dark violet gaze met his own.

"Fuck." Bakura jumped back into the air and away from the dark one's grip, backing up as fast as he could. He wiped his mouth off, retaining the feeling of Marik's lips on his, and not the evil being before him now who was advancing steadily with a wide, wicked grin. Bakura mentally cursed when his back met a wall.

A brown head tilted to the side, blond locks falling in wild tangles down an exposed neck. Lips twisted into a sneer, pulling back over white teeth as dark violet eyes laughed cruelly at the pale man opposite him.

"Oh, poor little Ring Spirit. What on earth are you going to do now?"

**So, there's a start! This story is going to get pretty dark. Now, it isn't that I don't like writing happy fluff, because I ADORE writing happy fluff, but in order to write it well you need to be in a happy, fluffy mood, which I am really not in right now. Stupid health. So yes, new story to help cultivate my darker side. XD Thanks a lot for reading and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here is the next chapter, and sorry it took so long! I went away for a bit, but I'm back now and armed with an update schedule! This story is going to be updated every TUESDAY, except for next week when I'm away again. ^_^ If you would like to know the schedule for my other stories, run along to my profile page hehe. They will all be updated once a week. XD Thank you so much for all those lovely reviews, favs, and follows, I'm so thrilled people are liking this already. **

**Just to clarify one point: this story WILL get dark, yes, but it will also end on a bright note. I can't abide sad endings. I can just about cope with reading them if I have fluff to resort to straight afterwards, but I literally cannot make myself write a sad ending. It doesn't work. So, this story will have consistently dark and sad themes, but it will end on a happy note. ^_^ **

**Warnings: Extreme violence and threat**

**Oh, and last chapter I called this story AU (Alternate Universe), which it sort of is, but it references events that happened in Battle City (the English dubbed anime version). I hope you like this new chapter! - Jem**

Bakura growled dangerously, furious. Livid brown eyes shot across the hall, firmly blocking the way to the door as Bakura looked with hatred at the dark form of Marik's body, knowing that Marik himself had gone again for now.

Bakura would not have that for long.

His lips still tingling from the kiss, Bakura dropped into a low crouch, watching warily as dark Marik lifted himself carefully from the ground. Bakura's neck was still burning, red finger marks standing out proudly on his borrowed pale skin. White hair was still sticky with blood and Bakura was fairly sure that the back of his head was cut open, but right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. Namely, the sadistic being currently standing in his hallway.

"What, no witty retort?" Brown lips stretched wide as the dark figure advanced. He looked _amused._ "I'm disappointed in you."

"Shut the fuck up," Bakura snapped, his mind racing as he tried to figure out the fastest and most painless way out of this situation. He needed Marik back. Every fibre of Bakura's being was screeching out at the sheer _wrongness_ of looking into Marik's eyes and having some stranger leer back out at him, and Bakura couldn't cope with it for much longer. There had to be a way to get him back...

The dark figure shifted another step towards Bakura. "That is no way to talk to me, Ring Spirit." The tone had suddenly turned dark and dangerous, words slipping thickly through the air, weighing heavily in Bakura's ears.

Bakura glared. "Just get the fuck out and give me Marik back."

The dark one didn't even deign that with a response; he merely pulled Marik's lips back into a deep, cackling laugh. "Kekekekekeke!"

Bakura groaned, allowing his head to drop into his hands. He massaged his forehead. "What the hell do you even want? There's nothing in this world for you."

"That's where you're wrong." If it was even possible, the dark being's voice seemed to burn with more black fury, the tone vibrant and frightening as it rang through the thick muggy air. "Everything in this world is for me. It's all mine, don't you see? It should all belong to me!"

Bakura quirked a brow. Even at a time like this, he was unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "That's a rather arrogant notion, don't you think? You don't even truly belong in this world. If it wasn't for Marik, you wouldn't exist. You _need_ him."

That was a mistake.

With a feral roar more suited to a lion than Marik's mouth, the dark one rushed at Bakura, easily slamming him back into the door. Fingers pulled harshly at Bakura's long white hair, lifting him up by it and ignoring his watering eyes and the increase in the blood flowing from the back of his head. Bakura's body was slammed once, twice, against the wall until Marik's hands held him firmly there, pressing up against him. Lips moved to Bakura's ear. "I do not need that pathetic little weakling. He's so feeble he can't even save you!"

Bakura tried to speak, but a long tanned hand wrapped securely around his throat, replacing the old marks with new ones.

"_He_ is the one who can't live without me," growled that low, dangerous voice. "_He_ is the one too weak to face his own demons. _He_ is the one who trapped me for years on end, pretending I didn't exist, and now _he_ is the one who is going to pay!"

Bakura was released from the wall and he instantly dropped to the floor, coughing. Black spots were dancing in his vision; this weak body couldn't take much more violence. Bakura cursed inwardly, thinking longingly of his brazen Egyptian body, the one that could survive the very breath of the Gods. Oh, what he would give to have it back now...

"But I can't hurt him without hurting me," the dark one snarled, reclaiming Bakura's attention. "So I'm going to have to make do with you."

Before Bakura could protest, a fist collided with his temple and he blacked out.

...

Blood was the first smell to hit his nostrils.

Bakura's throat felt like sandpaper, his skin shredded and broken, his hair matted and tangled, his hands dirty and marred. He tried to open his eyes but the muscles wouldn't obey him.

Bakura frowned.

He tried again, ordering his lids to rise. Nothing happened. He then tried to twitch a finger, lift a toe, tilt his head, all to no avail. It was as if he wasn't really in control of his body.

... As if he was in his soul room.

Bakura cursed. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than dark blue and black walls sprung up around him, shadows surrounding the area and pulling at his subconscious, trapping him, ensnaring him. This _never_ happened unless Bakura expressly told it to.

"Ryou!" Bakura yelled, angrier than he had ever been before. The one time he _really_ needed control of this body, and his stupid host chose _now_ to grow a backbone? Marik needed him!

"Ryou, get the fuck out!" Bakura snarled again, striding through the black space as a white demon in the night. His brown eyes glowed red with fury, flashing through the darkness. "Or are you going to make me force you again? I thought you would have learned enough from the last time!"

A bang resounded through the soul room, and a door opened deeper in the shadows. A pale, slim figure, almost identical to Bakura himself, stepped out into the darkness and met Bakura's gaze with a defiant glare.

Bakura looked at him with obvious distaste.

Ryou looked right back. "What do you want?"

"As if you don't know." Bakura advanced with a threatening snarl, taking a delicious delight in the way Ryou instantly backed up. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

Ryou's eyes widened. He tilted his head, watching Bakura curiously, his wide brown eyes glinting not entirely with fear. Bakura snarled. "Get back in your soul room and give me control. You ought to know by now never to disturb me."

"I didn't." Ryou's voice was surprisingly clear. It lacked the usual vibrant tone of fear, something for which Bakura was not exactly happy. Ryou was wise enough to speak quickly, however, backing up another couple of steps to keep him a safe distant away from his unwelcome body snatcher. "I'm not in control of the body, Bakura. You must have been knocked out."

Bakura gave a feral snarl, pleased when it sent Ryou back a little farther. The evil spirit in Marik's body must have hit him harder than he originally thought, and now Bakura was trapped in the shadows of his mind with his useless host, no way to get to Marik and no way to banish the evil spirit controlling his mind. Bakura cursed.

Ryou paled a little, but he stood his ground. "What are you going to do?"

"Why the fuck is that any business of yours?" Bakura sneered, shooting his host a disparaging look. "Just stay out of the way like the good little boy that you are."

Ryou's eyes hardened.

Bakura noticed and laughed cruelly, lips stretching back to reveal his fanged teeth. "Still wish you had control? I can leave you out there to deal with that sadistic monster if you so wish. I'm sure he'd love getting to play with you; you'd be good target practice if nothing else."

"Stop it." Ryou's voice dripped, shaking a little, and he retreated further. "Get out of my head."

"You know full well that is impossible." Bakura's voice instantly dropped, losing the cruelly teasing edge as he regarded his host with cold dark eyes. "I assume you've been watching events unfold. Stay out of the way; I don't need you interfering just now. We've had enough of bodies being taken over by the wrong person."

"It's my body!" Ryou hollered, fists clenching.

Bakura just laughed at him before turning and walking away, completely ignoring Ryou. The shadows closed around him, thrumming with the power of the Ring about his neck and lending him its strength as Bakura maintained complete control of the mind. He could feel Ryou weakly pushing at his boundaries, attempting to overthrow Bakura's bonds, but to Bakura it was akin to a flea headbutting a mountain. Ryou had no hope of gaining control unless Bakura specifically allowed it.

None of this solved the problem of unconsciousness, however.

Bakura continued to stride angrily through the passages of his soul room, fists clenched, until a vaguely familiar sound teased the edges of his ears.

_Kekekekekekeke!_

Dark laughter boomed around the shadows, for once not coming from Bakura's own mouth, and the white spirit tensed, his brows furrowing. That laughter was using Marik's voice.

He hissed.

Bakura latched onto the sound, allowing it to guide him out of his soul room and into the light. Eyes cracked open to a familiar dark bathroom; the fuzzy tiny window allowed dribbles of moonlight to slant through into the room, lighting it in thin strips, leaving a hazy silvery glow over everything. Bakura was facing the bath and shower unit, the toilet and sink to his left and the door to his right. One quick flick of his eyes showed him that the door was bolted shut.

Even more worrying; Marik's body was nowhere to be seen.

Bakura moved slowly, his muscles flaring with pain. His hair felt sticky, his limbs locked as he sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, his eyes narrowed and searching, largely ignoring the complaints of his body. He highly doubted he had been left in here alone...

_There._

Behind him. Just the smallest of sounds, the quietest of breaths, and yet it held more threat than a tiger waiting in the grass. Bakura had barely a half second to think before familiar arms wrapped around him, touches harsher than any this body had given him so far. Bakura growled at how Marik's body could be so used.

"Gods! You're finally awake."

The dark voice rang through the room, strong and vibrant with shadows. Bakura was tugged backwards and a blade appeared at his throat – an all-too-familiar blade. Marik's Millennium Rod.

Bakura snarled. "Release me at once, fiend, and give Marik back."

"No matter how many times you say it, that is never going to happen," the dark voice slicked, obviously amused. Bakura was picked up and swiftly spun around, landing none-too-gently on the hard bathroom tiles, now facing the familiar body before him, twisted and warped into such a black creature.

Violet eyes burned with black fire. "Rest assured of one thing, though. He's here. He's watching proceedings."

Bakura's heart flared with the tiniest amount of hope.

The dark one leaned closer, lips teasingly brushing Bakura's ear as he breathed poison into his brain. "And I'll be sure to give him a good show."

The small flame of hope was instantly quenched when Bakura was pushed forwards, landing on his front on the freezing cold tiles. A weight instantly fell onto his back, blade digging into the back of his neck as he was held down against the ground.

"Now, where to start?" the dark voice mused. The blade of the Rod dipped teasingly, slicing a hairline cut at the base of Bakura's skull, sending a bright line of red blood sliding across his skin. "So many places to mutilate..."

_Stop it! BAKURA!_

"Now, now, Marik," the dark one chortled, blade once again gliding over pale skin. "You're going to watch every second of this. I'm going to have a lot of fun playing with him before I finally get rid."

Mindless sobbing rushed through Marik's skull. _No, let him go! LET HIM GO! I'm the one you hate, not him!"_

"And I am punishing you too." The dark voice turned deadly. "That's the beauty of this plan."

Without further hesitation, the blade slashed pale skin.

Bakura roared, white-hot pain flashing through his skull, and his pain threshold was not low. A long, jagged slash shot down from the base of his head to his right shoulder blade, torn through his flimsy shirt and easily slitting Ryou's pale skin. Bakura growled and pressed fists into the tiles beneath him, but dark laughter was all that sounded through the room.

One brown hand dipped into the gash on Bakura's back, relishing in the pained groan that tore from Bakura's lips. Marik's mouth was stretched into a wide grin, lifting a hand as the blood soaked down and dripped across bronze skin.

Wailing sounded within the mind.

"Hush, Marik," the dark voice almost crooned, Millennium Rod raised once more. "I've barely even started."

Bakura felt a shiver of fear at those words.

The Rod arched through the air almost gracefully, decorating the exposed pale back with another scar, this time not so deep. Bakura hissed and slid across the floor, his head pounding and flesh crawling at the weight on top of him, holding him securely against the floor with no hope of escape. He gritted his teeth and bore the pain as the creature above him delighted in his blood. Marik's fingers dug into the wounds, stretching the scars, and Bakura couldn't stop himself from groaning in pain, his lip bloody with the amount of times he had bitten into it; this body was weak and feeble, unable to take much more.

Marik's lips stretched as the dark one watched red blood staining pretty pale skin, the colours matching almost perfectly. His prey wasn't screaming enough, though; there wasn't enough torture. He lifted the Rod again...

_NO!_

The hand stopped in mid-air. There was a shunt deep within his mind and the dark one felt himself falling, his mind jerking frighteningly. He roared. "No!"

_Get the fuck out!_

This small distraction was all Bakura needed.

Moving with a screech of pain as his back cracked, Bakura dragged himself out from under Marik and hauled his way over to the bath. His hands knotted at its rim, forced to half-kneel as Ryou's body began to give out, collapsing. Bakura snarled deep within his mind. _This would be so much easier if you weren't a pathetic coward!_

_Most of that is your fault!_ sounded Ryou's harsh retort.

Bakura ignored him and painfully turned himself around, meeting a dark violet glare. The eyes were narrowed into furious slits, Rod in hand slippery and dripping with blood, the tiles stained with red. _Marik will be bitching about cleaning that up later,_ Bakura thought with a mild chuckle, Ring clinking about his neck.

And then he had his answer.

"I'm not done with you yet." The dark being's voice was black as obsidian, the threat weighing heavily on the air, sending electrifying shocks through the atmosphere itself.

Bakura glared right back at him. "Nor I with you."

A snarl.

Bakura smirked. "Marik. I have a plan."

Hope flared within the inner mind of Marik, but the dark one quashed it without a second thought and advanced with a roar. "Nothing you can do will save either of you now!"

Bakura shrugged, ignoring the loud complaints from the two harsh cuts on his back. "You won't be able to hurt us there."

A blond eyebrow arched.

Bakura gestured to the Ring at his neck. "I'll meet you in there, Marik."

Dark violet eyes widened in horrified understanding as Bakura's brown eyes dimmed momentarily before widening. Red-encrusted white hair dropped, flattening and neatening even amongst the streaks of matted blood, and pale shoulders dipped, shirt hanging loose around his thin slender frame. Features soon twisted into one of confusion, shortly followed by a slow realisation and finally settling on horror. Brown eyes landed on the dark form before them. Ryou took a step back.

Dark violet eyes blinked. Brown lips twisted into a sneer.

"Well, now. _This_ could be fun."

...

Bakura allowed himself to retreat into his soul room, willingly this time, solely focused on finding Marik once again. The power of the Ring hummed and thrummed through his mind, Bakura encouraging it with some of his own vast strength, edging it forwards as he strode through the blue-black shadows, gaze intent. "Yes, come on, Marik. Find your way here..."

The moments could have lasted hours in that distant room as Bakura paced desperately. He could practically _feel_ Marik, they were so close, bound in the same realm now, willingly or not. Bakura gritted his teeth. _Come on come on come on..._

The faintest glimmers of light appeared from somewhere up ahead.

Relieved, Bakura ceased his movements and merely stood, watching, as the lights streamed together to form a substantial body. Blond hair dripped down a frenzied face, violet eyes wide and searching, hands clawing out in front of him as he swiped at the shadows. A voice, that wonderfully familiar nasally tone, rang through the darkness as clear as day. "Bakura?"

"Marik." Bakura was careful to keep his voice stern, but he couldn't help a small iota of relief dripping into its tone. He held his arms wide open.

Marik ran into them.

Warmth surrounded them both as Marik collapsed against Bakura, harsh sobs racking his form. Fingers dug desperately into shoulder blades, faces burying in hair, lips meeting in an urgent kiss as both found each other again. Marik ran his hands desperately over Bakura's features, dipping down to caress his back, speaking between kisses. "I'm sorry ... I'm so sorry ... Oh, Gods, I'm so sorry..."

"Will you stop apologising?" Bakura couldn't hold back a smirk as he guided them both down to the floor, pulling Marik up into his lap and cradling him gently. "None of this is your fault."

"He fucking -!" Marik snarled. "That fucking _bastard_ -!"

"I know, and we'll stop him." Bakura's voice was a stern murmur, his hands firm and careful around Marik's body.

Marik sniffed and shook. "How? He's too strong for me, Bakura. He's got me chained up in a corner and I can't get out. I don't even understand how I got here..."

"A part of your soul was already here," Bakura murmured into Marik's ear, rocking him gently. "Remember Battle City?"

Marik blinked, realisation flooding through him slowly. He twisted his head around to meet Bakura's gaze, their lips inches apart, a small smile gracing his lips despite the tears tracking down his cold, hollow cheeks. "Of course I remember. How could I forget your pathetic attempt to save me?"

"Brat." Bakura butted him lightly. "If you hadn't distracted me so much, there's no way we would have lost."

Marik's grin only increased at those words and he twisted around, straddling Bakura. Brown fingers played with the ends of white hair as Marik leaned against him. "I can't help that you're obsessed with me."

"Hush." Bakura wound his arms around Marik's back and held them close together, gazes perfectly level.

Marik smiled, continuing to play with strands of hair, moving his hands around until he caressed the back of Bakura's head. "You were bleeding here, out there..."

Bakura moved his head away. "Wounds don't count in soul rooms. You know that."

"He still did it, though." Marik's voice darkened a little with hatred. He deliberately pushed Bakura down flat onto the shadowy floor, flipping him over and running gentle brown hands across his shoulder blades. "And he cut you here."

"I'm fine." Bakura allowed Marik's hands to wander, fixing him with a baleful brown stare. "It isn't your fault."

Marik smiled. "I know."

"So stop feeling fucking guilty." Bakura pushed upright again and tugged Marik close, cradling him on his lap. His fingers went to Marik's back, to the scars still visible there even in his soul room. "You have worse, anyway."

Marik laughed half-heartedly. "I win."

Bakura smirked.

Marik's tongue darted out to lick his lips as he met Bakura's eyes, his violet gaze darkening a little. "Does this mean I'm still trapped? I mean, I can't get control of my body back from here?"

Bakura's fingers dug sharply into Marik's back, but he remained silent.

Marik drew in a shaky breath. "I thought so."

Silence held between them for a few moments, the only disturbance Marik's fingers threading through Bakura's hair.

Marik spoke again. "When you're in control, how difficult is it for Ryou to fight you off?"

"He never has," Bakura snorted. "He's too weak."

"Then so am I." Marik curled his fingers into fists, burying his head deep in Bakura's shoulder. Bakura felt something cold drip down his neck and sighed.

"Don't cry." Bakura's voice was rough as he pulled Marik near. "I'm not leaving you trapped in here. We'll get him to give you back control."

Marik laughed derisively, the sound a little shaky. "How in the hell are we going to do that? He's never going to agree."

"We'll figure it out." Bakura's tone left no room for arguments as he cradled Marik close to him, searching his face with his lips. Marik closed his eyes and gladly took the distraction. The hands in Bakura's hair turned demanding, firmly tugging until Bakura's face was properly angled. Marik met his eyes, allowing all his panic, anger, hatred, and fear to show through, before he leaned forwards and pressed their lips together.

Bakura fell back onto the shadowy floor and cradled Marik close, kissing firmly. They might not have a way out yet, but for now, they had a little time together, and Bakura wasn't planning to waste a second.

"Wait..." Marik pulled back half a centimetre, ignoring Bakura's frustrated growl. "Doesn't this mean you've left Ryou on his own out there with him?"

"Fuck my host," Bakura snarled immediately, pulling Marik back down. "He can last a little while. You're more important."

Marik smirked and kissed him deeply, chuckling. "Alright. Just don't blame me if you have no body to go back to."

Bakura laughed darkly as he pulled Marik close. "That's the least of my concerns right now."

Marik smiled and curled up on his chest, his fingers once more finding purchase in white hair as he allowed their lips to meet. Bakura closed his eyes and hummed.

The shadows closed securely around them, a protective blanket from the pain and torment of their separate bodies. For now, they were safe.

...

The first thing Ryou felt was a burning in his throat. It felt like someone had shoved a shard of sandpaper down his windpipe and rubbed it harshly against his vocal chords, leaving them red raw and painful, aching every time he moved.

Then a strange numbing sensation weighed down his limbs. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes, aside from a light tingling. Certainly not a good sign.

Finally, pain exploded across his back. Ryou gasped and groaned, eyes watering as he dropped to the floor, his arms shaking whilst he attempted to prop himself up. Black spots danced in his vision, fiery heat searing across what felt like a chainsaw ripping through the pale skin between his shoulders blades and around the back of his neck. His long white hair felt sticky, the back of his head still aching from earlier, and he was almost positive he was bleeding from several different places. Bleeding a lot, if the red coating the bathroom tiles was anything to go by.

"I'm surprised he let you out."

Ryou forced his head up at those words, the dark voice sending deep chills straight through his body. Marik looked totally different and completely insane in his dark form. Ryou had never actually met him before, but he had picked up enough of what happened in Battle City from Bakura's memories, and safe to say that Ryou really wasn't relishing the opportunity to get to know him better. He swallowed.

Marik's body took a step closer. "After all, he must know that I will _destroy_ you."

...Yep. Ryou was definitely _not_ relishing this.

_Bakura, where the hell are you?_ Ryou gritted his teeth and dragged himself upright, sagging against the wall as pain rushed through his entire being, right from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He blinked dizzily. _I hate you, damn spirit!_

"Are you too weak to even speak?" The dark one's head tilted, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. The Rod, blade uncovered, was still ever-present in his right hand as he advanced. Ryou's eyes flicked desperately to the still-locked door.

"No escape for you," the dark voice chuckled, deep and alluring and terrifying all at once. "But why don't we make this a little more _fun_?"

Ryou blinked, struggling to focus on the form before him.

One brown hand snapped out, unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open. Marik's body gestured through it, wide grin stretching his lips. "Go on. _Run_."

Even through the haze of pain, Ryou managed to look confused.

Dark laughter rang through the room, pealing off the ceiling and rolling around the air, atmosphere thick and cloying. "I could kill you at any second, but then it would be over _far_ too soon. Let's have a little fun, shall we? Run, Ryou. Run and hide. Let's see if I can _catch_ you."

Ryou shivered at the sadistic words, the thrilling, thrumming voice, the evil gleam in those violet eyes that bespoke a terrifying pleasure. The door was held wide open, inviting, the rest of the flat appearing quiet and welcoming.

"_Run_."

Without further thought, Ryou forced himself away from the wall and dragged himself out of the bathroom, gait unsteady with pain flaring across his back.

Breaths were hard and harsh, uneven, as Ryou tried to work through the pain. It was useless. With every step he took, black dots burst across his vision and dizziness flickered at the back of his skull. He was already weak and he couldn't last much longer; he had to get out.

With painfully slow movements, all too aware of the threat behind him, Ryou made his edgy way to the front door, every step agony. He swayed and stumbled, half-way there when another terrifying noise sounded from behind him. The dark voice rang from the bathroom, clear and vibrant and warmed with sadistic enjoyment.

"_Twenty ... nineteen ... eighteen ..."_

Ryou's eyes grew very round.

Hastening as much as he could, Ryou fell against the frame of the front door and took several deep, calming breaths, attempting to ease the pain in his back as much as he could. It didn't work. With his lungs burning, Ryou moved a shaking hand to the door handle and pushed down, eyes sliding shut.

Nothing happened.

"_Fourteen ... thirteen ... twelve..."_

Panicking slightly, Ryou used both hands to hold himself up, legs shaking as he urgently tugged at the handle. The door refused to budge. The key, where was the key...

"_Nine ... eight ... seven..."_

No time to find it now. Ryou stumbled painfully away from the door, entering the first room he saw; the bedroom furnishings were bordering on gaudy, probably Marik's taste more than Bakura's. Ryou flinched a little at the sight of the bed, not wanting to remember what Bakura and Marik had done to his body in there. _I hate you so much, Bakura._

There was still no answer from the depths of the Ring.

"_Four ... three ... two..."_

Ryou hissed and flung himself forwards, toppling to the floor with a screech of pain across his still-bleeding back. He had probably left a trail of blood everywhere, but he was too tired to worry about that now, Ryou merely rolled across the floor and under the bed, shrouding himself in darkness and attempting to keep quiet. It wasn't like he had much choice at this point, anyway.

"_One ... Zero."_

Footsteps echoing across the apartment.

_"Ready or not, here I come!"_

Ryou drew in another shuddering breath, attempting to stay as silent as he could. He lay on his front under the large double bed, his nails digging into the carpet by his face, his eyes wide and staring, pain flaring across the cuts on his back. Spots of blood were splattered across the room, but they didn't lead straight to the bed ... so perhaps if Ryou was very lucky...

Who was he kidding? He had no chance.

Bare brown feet soon appeared in Ryou's vision, sticking out of the bottom of black trousers. A frightening hum filled the air as the dark being moved around the room, examining the walls. Ryou's heart caught in his mouth when he bent down to examine one of the spots of blood on the floor, blond spikes radiating out from his skull.

Ryou's breath hitched.

The other's head whipped around, eyes boring straight into Ryou's.

Dark violet eyes pierced through the night time air, searing straight into Ryou's brown gaze, the moonlight from the window casting a deadly silvery mist over everything.

There was a low chuckle. "Well, _that _was rather disappointing."

Dark Marik sat back on his heels and beckoned, grinning cruelly. "I was hoping it would take a few more hours yet. But I guess you really are as pathetic as Bakura always said."

_I am not pathetic!_

Ryou's mouth was silent.

Marik's head was tilted sideways as he beckoned again, fingers crooked in that _come hither_ stance. Ryou shivered, the pain in his back begging him not to move, but he dreaded the consequences of disobeying that order – matters were already bad enough. The last thing Ryou needed was to anger this dark spirit.

Still his body would not move.

A long loud sigh filled the room and, before Ryou knew what was happening, hands closed around him and pulled him to his feet. Ryou paled considerably at the pain shooting through his veins, feet dangling pathetically as he was lifted up to eye level with Marik's dark half. Violet eyes seared straight into him. "Wakey wakey."

Ryou hissed but otherwise kept silent, his face screwing up with each motion. He kicked and struggled for a few moments, but the ache of his muscles and the spots in his vision soon convinced him that trying to escape was a really bad idea, especially when held fast by Marik's body.

Violet eyes narrowed.

"You are going nowhere." Without further ceremony, Ryou was whirled around and flung against a wall, Marik's body pressed close to him. Ryou couldn't help but scream when his still-bleeding back met the stone hard, eyes watering as the breath was dragged from his lungs.

"So you _do_ make a noise." Marik's hands whacked him into the wall again and Ryou groaned, his eyes sliding shut as his legs kicked uselessly. Marik's lips stretched into a wide grin as he leered down at Ryou. "I want to hear you scream."

"I won't."

Ryou's words surprised even himself.

One blond eyebrow arched up, head tilting to one side. Violet eyes narrowed dangerously, black fire burning behind them, and Ryou swallowed, meeting the frightening gaze.

Marik's mouth opened. "What did you say?"

"I won't scream." Ryou's voice came out mostly even, only cracking a little.

A low hiss. "I will do things to you that you cannot stay silent for."

"_Please_," Ryou released a low, dark chuckle. "I live with Bakura. Don't you think I'm used to torture by now?"

A snarl. Hands in Ryou's hair, forcing his head back, pulling painfully on his scalp. "I am nothing like that damned thief!"

Ryou winced. "So prove it. Let me go."

"Fucking _hell_!" Dark violet eyes met Ryou's once more, shadows dancing insanely in their depths. "How stupid are you?"

Ryou shrugged, ignoring the searing fire across his back. "I never said I'd leave. Just that you should let me go."

"I'm having too much fun." Dark Marik leered down at Ryou, grinning widely, but past the pain Ryou was too weak to feel fear. He knew, somewhere, that this was a very bad idea, but he had to try something. After all, Bakura wasn't helping him. Ryou would have to save himself.

"Let me go," Ryou murmured quietly. "You wanted to play with me some more, right? So let me go and I'll stick around."

A snort passed through brown lips. "Don't take me for a fool. You'll be running for the doors in no time."

"You know full well that they're locked," Ryou murmured, refusing to look away from those dark violet eyes.

Lips pursed. "So you'll stay?"

Ryou nodded.

"Why the fuck wouldn't you run as far as possible from me?" Marik's features were twisted, a vein standing out roughly on his forehead as he leered past the spikes of blond hair.

Ryou shrugged, managing to muster up a small smile. "Maybe I'm enjoying myself too much. This is the first time I've been in control of my own body for months."

A blond eyebrow arched again. "Same here."

Despite himself, Ryou smiled. "Well then, why don't we have some fun?"

Silence weighed heavily over the room as Marik's dark side thought, brows furrowed. Ryou watched, fascinated, as different expressions flitted across his features, his face nowhere near the impassive mask that Bakura always wore. This dark spirit was so different to Ryou's own tormentor. He found himself drawing closer, fascinated, and unable to take his eyes away even when a darkly amused violet gaze latched onto his own.

Marik's body stepped back, allowing Ryou to crumple to the floor.

"Alright then. Let's have some _fun_."

**That's your lot for now! I have so much fun with this story haha. Thank you so much for the reviews and support, I'm really pleased people are enjoying this so far. Look out for an update in (hopefully) two weeks' time! - Jem**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, here I am with a new chapter, finally! So sorry it's been a while since my last, but I'm keeping updates as regular as I can. This one is rather short, though, so I apologise. ^_^ Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I'm so sorry if I haven't replied to you all. Just know that I love and treasure each and every one of your words, and I'm thrilled by how many people are reading and following this already! I've just barely begun hehe. I have LOTS planned for this story. XD**

**This chapter is for my dear friend CursiveBlade13, who's going through a bit of a rough patch just now. I hope it helps you, my dear! This story came from her plot idea and I am so very grateful for everything she does.**

**Warnings: Severe threat and violence**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! – Jem**

Ryou coughed when he landed heavily on the bloody floor of the bedroom, his chest wheezing and throat red raw with pain. White heat still spread across the scars along his back and the back of his head felt about ready to explode, but Ryou was still in one piece, just about. For how much longer remained to be seen.

Drawing in another slightly painful breath, Ryou gingerly placed his palms on the carpet and sat himself up. His bones and joints felt loose, like a ragdoll. Blinking and coughing, he lifted himself up a little more, manoeuvring himself around until his back met a wall, where he relaxed with a pained sigh. His every bone ached. Taking regular, deep breaths, Ryou closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall, working through the flares of pain from his back, pursing his lips as he blew each breath out from between his pursed lips.

"Having fun dealing with my little gifts, weakling?"

That dark voice was just as vibrant with danger as ever.

Ryou cracked one eye open, swallowing painfully before he attempted speech. Marik's dark form was leering over him, huge and towering over Ryou's small body, the Millennium Rod still ever present in his hand. Ryou flicked one glance of his eyes down to the Ring hanging about his neck, calling silently for its occupant, but there was still no word from Bakura. Ryou was in this alone.

"I wouldn't call these gifts," Ryou murmured, his voice raspy and raw. One pale hand went to his throat, rubbing along the red fingerprints. He winced.

Dark Marik grinned; a crooked, evil expression. He crouched down opposite Ryou, violet eyes narrowed and piercing straight into Ryou's soul as he leaned a bit closer, hands landing either side of Ryou's feet. They didn't touch, but threat was imminent. "So, little mouse. How's your other in the Ring doing? I thought he'd be less of a coward; he must know you won't stand against me for long."

Ryou snorted, the sound painful to his raw throat. "He doesn't care. He never has. As long as he has a body to return to, he won't care what you do to me."

"Oh really?" One blonde eyebrow arched, violet eyes glittering. "That _is_ interesting."

Ryou sighed tiredly, allowing his eyes to slide shut again as the back of his head hit the wall. _Bakura, where are you?_ He called out silently once again, searching the black depths of the soul room, but only the echoes of his own thoughts replied to him. Wherever Bakura was, it was far out of Ryou's reach. He was, once again, alone. With a pained groan, Ryou shifted his back against the wall, feeling the blood sticking his shirt to his skin. "Yes. So, you can push me to the brink of death, but Bakura will take over at the last moment to keep this body going."

"He's done that before." Dark Marik's voice suddenly changed, turning almost curious. Blond spikes swayed as his head tilted, violet eyes searing straight into Ryou.

Ryou raised a tired brow. "What?"

"In Battle City." That dark voice thrummed, leaving trickles in the air. "Marik and he were duelling. Marik placed you in danger but Bakura saved you."

Surprised, Ryou's eyes opened. He looked straight at the tanned, twisted features before him, his pale brow marring with a crease as he narrowed his eyes quizzically, white hair cascading down his shoulders. "You remember that?"

"It made Marik weak," tanned lips spat. "Gave me a chance to grow stronger."

Ryou nodded slowly, once again running his eyes down the sadistic being before him. Marik's body really looked nothing like himself; at least, not the version Bakura knew, which was the only side to Marik that Ryou ever saw. He had heard all the stories, of course, from Yugi and the others as well as what he could piece together from Bakura's memories; he knew of Marik's struggle with his darkness. He had thought it had been repressed.

Evidently, he was wrong.

"Stop staring at me like that," Marik's voice was dark and vibrant, his brows furrowed. "You're meant to be in pain."

_Oh believe me, I am,_ Ryou hissed to himself. He shifted against the wall a little, grimacing at the stickiness of his bloody back. The room span worryingly around him before he looked back up at the tanned face before him. Marik's features seemed blurrier than before. _Bakura? Are you going to wake up yet?_

Silence from the Ring.

"Forget that stupid spirit," Ryou muttered angrily to himself, attempting to move and wincing as his back cracked. The two deep cuts were bleeding profusely if the red staining the wall was anything to go by, and the violet shining of Marik's eyes told Ryou that his trials were not over.

Sure enough, Marik leaned forwards, his tongue poking eagerly out of mouth. "Is the bastard still ignoring you?"

"He's too busy messing around with your lighter half to pay any attention to me," Ryou grumbled, his eyes squeezing shut as he hissed in pain. His hands trembled as he laid them on his knees.

"Kekekekek!" Dark cruel laughter rang out from Marik's lips as his brown features twisted in sadistic amusement. "Those fools. They think they can be together in the Ring? I can drag them out of there whenever I wish."

Ryou blinked up through the haze of pain. "What?"

"Kekeke." Marik's hands suddenly landed on Ryou's knees as the dark being leaned forwards, his blond spikes shooting around Ryou's face. Brown lips curved up into a smirk, violet eyes glinting with sadistic amusement as tanned hands dug into pale wrists; Ryou's skin burned wherever it touched Marik's. "Marik is _mine_. I can drag him out of there at any moment."

Ryou drew in a shuddering breath. "But why would you want to?"

"He can't be happy," the dark one spat, breath hot on Ryou's face. He was far too close. "He doesn't deserve it."

Ryou blinked. He swallowed when dark Marik leaned forwards yet again, the wall hard against his back as he tried to shuffle away. His back screeched with pain at every move, but Ryou knew there was no escape. He swallowed. "Why doesn't he deserve it?"

"Because this body should be mine!" Marik's voice thrummed with malice, his eyes glittering with shadows through the haze of pain clouding Ryou's gaze. Ryou's mouth instantly dried, his hands trembling under Marik's, chest rising and falling rapidly. Marik's features leered at him. "Marik created me and then banished me. He is a weakling and he needs to be destroyed."

Ryou drew in a harsh breath. "You'd destroy him for fighting for his body?"

"Wouldn't you destroy Bakura if you could?" The dark voice countered with perfect precision. Violet eyes pricked as they watched Ryou, dancing just out of reach; Ryou lifted one heavy hand from under Marik's, but it trembled in the air, splitting in his double vision.

Ryou blinked. "I..." He stopped, coughed harshly, swallowed with a grimace, and continued. "I would fight for my body."

"As would I." Marik's dark form sat back on his heels, palms still warm against Ryou's knees. Their gazes met. "As am I."

Ryou nodded once, slowly. His voice, when he spoke, no longer trembled with fear. It was clear and cool, perfectly calm. "Then perhaps we are not so different after all."

...

"I'm going to kill him."

"You know that's impossible."

"I don't care. I'm still going to do it."

"Marik, he's you. You'd be killing yourself."

"And I don't fucking care!" Marik seethed, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. He paced around the inner darkness of the Ring, the walls of Bakura's soul room sizzling with fury around them as he stomped along the insubstantial shadows. "I am not just going to let him do whatever the hell he wants with my body!"

"So don't." Bakura's voice was calm, gaze cool as he watched Marik pace.

Marik seethed. "If only it were that fucking easy." He stopped moving abruptly, tears pricking behind his eyelids as he bit his lip, refusing to look over at Bakura. Marik's head dropped into his hands. "I'd rather die than let him live in my body..."

"Well, I wouldn't." Bakura was up and by Marik's side in an instant. Pale hands fell onto dark arms as Bakura firmly met Marik's gaze, giving him a small shake. "Stop being so melodramatic."

Marik looked back at Bakura, expression hopeless. His violet eyes looked almost dead, blond hair lifeless as it fell over his face, features drooped and despairing. Bakura sighed and pulled him close, wrapping long arms around Marik's back. "We'll get you back in your body, Marik."

"Will we?" Marik's voice was barely a whisper. His fingers tightened in the front of Bakura's jacket.

Bakura's eyes fluttered closed as he released a low sigh. Marik felt small and fragile in his arms, as light as air, as if he could float away or disappear at any moment. This was not a long term solution, Bakura knew, but in the Ring Marik's soul felt pure and light, untainted by the dark being currently inhabiting his body. In the Ring, Marik felt like Marik again. Bakura wasn't ready to give that up.

Carefully guiding them down to the floor, Bakura cradled Marik in his lap, much as a mother would their child. He rested Marik's head against his shoulder, fingers dancing down his tanned arm. Marik curled up gratefully, his eyes sliding shut as he pressed himself into Bakura's chest, wanting to feel something real, something tangible. His soul felt lost without a body, like a ship without anchor. He was afloat on a deep dark sea.

"I will get you back," Bakura murmured into Marik's hair.

A rustle of clothing. A tear wiped off a brown cheek. Violet eyes staring. "You will?"

"Trust me, Marik." Bakura gathered the man into his arms, rocking him against his chest, enclosing him completely. "I will get you back."

...

Ryou's head snapped back into the wall as the Rod whipped towards him. Marik's body was suddenly standing again, leering over him with a towering, overpowering presence, and Ryou gulped, knowing he might have pushed too far this time. Marik's voice came out twisted and dark, almost a roar. "I am nothing like you, weakling!"

"I didn't mean..." Ryou squeaked. "I never said..."

The Rod pushed closer to his throat and Ryou squirmed, wriggling back against the wall in an effort to avoid that coldly sharp metal. His back still screamed with pain at the slightest motion. Flicking brown eyes up at the terrifying darkness above him, Ryou squeaked when one dark hand descended, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and holding him at eye-level with Marik's taller body. Ryou's legs kicked uselessly, pain rushing along his back. He could feel blood trickling down his skin and it made him shiver, skin crawling. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at me!" Dark Marik's voice roared as he slammed Ryou back into the wall. With a pained gasp brown eyes opened again, clouded with fear and weakness, pale hands trembling with bloodstained white hair dripping down past thin shoulders. Ryou panted weakly, a pathetic being.

Brown hands slammed him against the wall again as Marik's body leaned closer. Hot breath blew forcefully across Ryou's cheek, much too close once again, the hot hate-filled body of his aggressor pressed up close to him. They were at perfect eye level, Ryou's feet kicking at the floor as he was held tightly. "Always look at me. I want to see the light die from your eyes."

"You can't kill me," Ryou whispered painfully.

A wide, wide grin took over Marik's face. "Keke. I will break every bone in your body and leave you to die in pain."

Ryou flinched, then winced from the pain. His blood boiled in his veins. "Bakura will – "

"Fuck Bakura!" The name was spat from between Marik's lips. "Fuck him and my light half!" Ryou's body was pushed further up against the wall, bleeding wounds scraping against the soft upholstery. He sucked in a sharp breath, watching with wide eyes as the Rod advanced towards his throat one more, the metal cool and slick against his skin. Ryou swallowed, feeling the sharp blade dig in.

Ryou breathed shallowly.

"See? He isn't coming out to save you now." The tone of that dark voice was almost crooning. "He doesn't care about you."

Ryou held back a snort, almost cross-eyed as he watched the blade against his throat. "I know _that_."

"I could leave scars over every inch of your body," the dark voice breathed, lowly, seductively. "Blood dripping all over that pretty pale skin."

Ryou held still.

"Such a blank canvas." The Rod tip moved slowly against Ryou's neck, deep enough to draw just the tiniest pinprick of blood. It wept down his fluttering chest, sticking to the top of his simple shirt. "So many possibilities."

Ryou blinked once. His hands curled inwards, every muscle locked in a tense standoff as he gazed up into Marik's eyes, almost flinching at the darkness that bored back out of them. He shivered as the cold metal traced the veins in his throat. "So easy, to cause you immeasurable pain."

"I can cope with pain." Ryou's voice was small but strong, unwavering. It surprised him almost as much as it surprised Marik's dark half.

The Rod paused momentarily, violet eyes boring into Ryou's. "Not like the sort I can inflict."

"I've dealt with enough." Ryou grew more defiant as the Rod hesitated again. "I live my whole life locked in a small dark room, usually chained to wall. A spectator in my own body."

The Rod stopped altogether.

Ryou stared straight into those dark violet eyes. "I think you know how painful that is."

The dark being looked out through Marik's eyes, using Marik's face as it twisted into confusion. The Rod was poised at Ryou's throat, dangerously close to his translucent pale skin, the blade covered in rusty dried blood, the same stickiness that coated Ryou's back. Ryou watched with fascination as those violet eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed into dark slits. He pinned Ryou with a firm glare, pursing his lips. "You know that pain, too."

"I do." Ryou didn't blink as he looked at the dark being, pursing his lips slightly. He moved carefully against the wall, wincing. "You know it, too. You know no pain you can give me in the mortal realm will ever equal that."

Abruptly, Ryou was dropped. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, gasping as air whooshed out of his pained lungs, blood pooling against the ground and staining the wall a dark rusty colour. Ryou didn't have time to catch his breath before Marik's hands were in his hair, tugging his head up as the dark being leaned forwards almost desperately to meet Ryou's gaze. "How do you stand it?"

"What?" Ryou blinked, disorientated.

"_How do you stand it?"_ Ryou's thin frame was shaken with every word, the dark voice almost a low screech as it rumbled into Ryou's ears.

Ryou's heart thumped painfully in his chest. Those words were spoken with uncharacteristic desperation, an edge of urgency to them that Ryou recognised from his own nightmares. It spoke of eons of darkness, seconds stretching into minutes stretching into hours and months and years of unbearable torment, locked away in a corner of your mind, forced to watch as your body moves against your will. Endless chains, too strong to fight against. Bound and tossed away, forgotten by everyone as someone else moves on with your life, taking what is rightfully yours.

Ryou understood.

"We'll take back control," Ryou spoke quietly, almost fearing what Bakura would think if he heard these words. "We have as much of a right to life as they do."

"Don't talk about fucking _rights_." Marik's voice was still tinged with almost panic. "Just get Marik the fuck out!"

Ryou watched the dark one with trepidation pooling in his gut. If Bakura heard him now ... but Bakura was gone, hidden in the depths of the Ring, and the Rod was still present in Marik's possessed hand. Ryou made a quick decision and leaned forwards, his hands bravely landing on Marik's knees. Marik's body flinched at the touch, the dark one almost pulling back before a challenge appeared in his darkened violet eyes. Shadows swirled around the pupils as he leaned forwards to meet Ryou, tanned hands landing on pained pale shoulders. "Get him out of me."

Ryou's breathing calmed. He looked deeply into dark Marik's eyes and nodded once, leaning forwards, his fingers tightening on Marik's knees to remind him that this was real; they were in reality, in their bodies, where they belonged.

"Alright," Ryou murmured. "I'll help get Marik out."

...

Bakura cradled Marik close, holding his shaking form in his lap. Brown eyes, usually hard, were softened in the dim shadows as he stroked through Marik's blond hair, a pale brow creased. It was unusual for Marik to appear like this. Usually, the two would not display emotion to each other; Bakura could only recall a handful of occasions when he had comforted Marik like now, and all were late at night, soon after Marik suffered through a particularly traumatic nightmare.

This time, the nightmare was real.

Marik sniffed silently against Bakura's neck. Bakura sighed and pulled him closer, arms tight around him as he cradled him against his chest, Marik's head on Bakura's shoulder. Time seemed endless in the darkness of the Ring and Bakura grimaced, craving the light. Strange; he had spent centuries in here without complaint, but now that he had Marik, Bakura found himself craving the touch of an actual body. A physical form.

Marik's form buckled again and Bakura tightened his grip around his back. Marik was a wisp in hair, nothing like his tall, proud form in the outside world. He seemed thin and broken, as if he had already given up. Bakura wouldn't let him stop fighting so easily.

"Where is your dark form now?" Bakura's dark tones hissed through the air, swirling into Marik's ears.

Marik shifted tiredly, not removing his head from the crook of Bakura's neck. His voice hummed against insubstantial skin. "Check with Ryou."

"I can't be bothered with him," Bakura responded immediately. "Find where your dark half is. We need to get him out of your body."

Those words seemed to reach Marik and he stirred a little, violet eyes going blank. A shudder rippled through his body and he curled up closer again, dipping his head into Bakura's neck. "Urgh, I hate him so much..."

"I know," Bakura murmured in his ear. "But we just need to know where he is."

Marik grimaced. "Find him your fucking self." He waved Bakura away though, screwing up his face as he closed his eyes once more. Bakura cradled him again, watching with interest.

Marik finally resurfaced with a shudder. "He's taunting your host."

"Let him," Bakura snorted.

Marik shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips before it fell back into a saddened scowl. His eyes still glittered. "He's got Ryou against a wall with the Rod at his throat. That Item is _mine_."

"And you'll get it back." Bakura paused, biting his lip as he thought quickly.

Marik shook his head, collapsing back against Bakura with a pained sigh. "How in the hell are we going to do that? Do you think we just have to ask nicely and he'll disappear into the shadows again?"

"Well, you never know." Bakura deadpanned. Marik just burrowed further into him, though, so he sighed and wrapped his arms tighter. He lifted Marik's thin, fragile body, so different to the dark one threatening Ryou at the same moment, and hugged him tighter than he ever had before. "We're going to get you back," Bakura promised fiercely. "He'll never beat us.

Marik looked up, blinking. "He already has."

Bakura shook his head determinedly, jaw set. "This time's different. This time, I'm not holding back." Brown eyes gleamed with determination, a pale face settling. Bakura's face looked hollow in the depths of the Ring, his form wilder than when he was contained in Ryou's body. White hair spiked wildly about his head, shadows filling all the pale spots in his features, filling his face with cavernous darkness. Brown eyes glinted almost crimson in the darkness.

Marik shivered.

Bakura moved, carefully setting Marik down on the shadowy floor before he made to stand up. Marik frowned and grabbed hold of Bakura's sleeve, pulling him back down momentarily as he met his eyes. "Wait, where are you going? You aren't leaving me?!" Marik's voice took on a hysterical tinge at the end as he gazed desperately up into Bakura's eyes.

Bakura sighed and crouched again, supporting Marik by the elbows. "No, I'm not leaving you. I have a plan."

"Is this plan going to work?" Marik's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Because your track record isn't great."

Bakura smirked, flicking Marik on the forehead. His eyes gleamed crimson again. "Like I said, this time, I'm not holding back."

Marik merely watched, a frown drawing his brows together. He still clutched Bakura's sleeve when he made to stand up again. "No, wait. Is this dangerous?"

"For him, maybe," Bakura chuckled darkly.

Marik glared.

Bakura rolled his eyes, sitting on the shadowy ground again so he could fully meet Marik's eyes. Lifting one ghostly pale hand, Bakura wiped Marik's hair back from his shoulders, brushing it tenderly out of his eyes , his palm remaining against Marik's cheek. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Marik watched with pain violet eyes. "I hope you know what you're doing. He's getting stronger..."

"I know," Bakura growled, watching as Marik's form seemed to flicker before his eyes. "That's why I'm going to do this now. If you'll ever let me leave."

Marik frowned harder, releasing Bakura's sleeve and allowing him to stand. Violet eyes bored into him the whole time he walked away, raising the hairs on the back of Bakura's neck. Marik watched with saddened eyes, wilting more the further Bakura walked away, darkness flicking at his heels as his black coat flickered around him. Shadows engulfed him, footsteps echoing in Marik's ears long after Bakura was gone.

Marik bit his lip, attempting to force his insubstantial form to stay within the confines of the Ring. It was harder without Bakura's presence; the spirit acted as a sort of anchor, his touch reminding Marik that he was still real, that he still existed. He swallowed, fighting against the pounding ache in his head that was his dark half battling to keep his control. Marik was fighting, oh how he was fighting, but he wasn't strong enough to regain control on his own.

"Bakura," Marik whispered. "You're my only hope. Don't mess it up this time."

The white spirit heard Marik's small words, echoing around the Ring as they did. He swallowed, stopping in his movements for half a second before he forced his feet to move onwards, his head swimming with shadows. This was the only way out. Bakura hated it, hated feeling so useless and helpless; it was a feeling he remembered from his earliest days, a lost child in the desert, abandoned and alone. Then, he had run to the darkness, and he was doing the same now. It was amazing, how so little could change in three thousand years.

Only, now, Bakura was not running merely for himself.

Coat swirling around him, reminiscent of his old red cloak, Bakura strode through the shadows into the deepest darkest depths of the Ring. His skin crawled with every step. The darkness back here was very alive and very threatening, breathing down his neck, stalking his every movement, and Bakura knew all too well that this could be a huge mistake.

But there was no other way to help Marik.

The darkness rumbled around him, growing more and more threatening until Bakura's steps slowed and slowed, eventually drawing to a halt. He stopped in the middle of the darkness, his lips drawing into a thin, white line, eyes flaring crimson through the deep shadows. It was utterly black. Not even Bakura's tainted eyes could pierce this darkness; it was as absolute as soil, the texture of cloth as it swirled around his face, smothering him, encroaching him. Bakura could already feel himself slipping away.

Licking his lips with one swipe of his tongue, Bakura looked into the opaque blackness surrounding him. His voice, when he spoke, was like glass slicing through skin.

"Zorc."

**Sorry to leave that on a bit of a cliffhanger. XD I'll update as soon as I can!**

**So now you are all keen for thief and deathshipping heheh, you should go and read 'Bring Me the Stars' by DatkarKatass. It's a thrilling fanfic set in a different world and it is absolutely incredible. It really is one of my absolute favourite thiefshipping stories ever, and it's still being written! I'm so excited for it, and you all should be too, so go along and read it if you haven't already! Here's a link: ** s/9590911/1/Bring-Me-The-Stars **Anyway, enough from me for now hehe. I shall be back with an update as soon as I can. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem**


	4. Chapter 4

**So I finally have an update! I hope you enjoy it and sorry it took so long – Jem**

The shadows were thick and substantial, congealing around Bakura's thin form and clinging to his clothes. Their texture was viscous, almost overpowering. Bakura's narrowed eyes were barely strong enough to pierce their vast depths, but he saw enough to know that he was greatly outnumbered, as he always had been. Even his vast shadow magic shrank into insignificance when compared to the demon who shared his soul.

A dark laugh seemed to echo through the chamber, deadening as soon as it met Bakura's ears. The shadows reared up around Bakura, leering at him, snaking around his arms and legs and wending their way along his torso, surrounding him in the darkness that ate away at his soul. A black voice twisted its way into his skull, wicked words wending their way through his mind. "Well, if it isn't my weak, pathetic little host. This _is_ a surprise."

Blackness pressed against Bakura's eyelids, forcing them almost shut as he scoured the space around him. He felt claustrophobic, despite the endless reaches of the Ring; his voice was muffled, deceptively quiet in the heavy air. "Spare me the games, Zorc."

"Games are what I do best." The shadows swirled, cruel laughter echoing.

Bakura frowned. "You're here to help me. I want help."

"I am here to _rule_ you." The darkness flared, blackening further before coalescing in front of Bakura's eyes, pressing uncomfortably close. It swirled and reddened, forming two bright red eyes that blinked at Bakura before narrowing threateningly. Opaque silence rose between them.

Bakura growled. "As I remember it, you made a deal to help me." The darkness was disorientating, covering his vision, but he knew he needed this. Marik was counting on him. "I gave you a life in this time. In return, you do as I say."

The shadows rumbled.

"I need you to create a physical form for a dark spirit," Bakura snapped. His shoulders tensed, fists clenching, tendons standing out along his arms as he glared at the red eyes in front of him.

The shadows paused in their swirling momentarily. The red eyes blinked, narrowing slightly as they bored straight into Bakura, an amused glint lighting their depths. "After your own body, are you? Pathetic. It wouldn't do you any good; you will still be mine, in the end."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. His head dropped a bit. "The body isn't for me."

A dark chuckle ran through the air. "Oh, really? Then just who would you wish a body upon?" Darkness swirled through the heavy, cold atmosphere, those red eyes gleaming as they pierced straight through Bakura's mind, plucking out all his secrets, his deepest, darkest desires. Bakura could feel unwelcome shadows in his memories, sifting through them carelessly, as if they were nothing. Kul Elna mixed with desert mixed with a small shared apartment in Domino City. Blood shone unpleasantly on the walls, a flash of gold held by the wrong hand, violet eyes darkened and cruel laughter escaping brown lips.

Bakura spat. His nails dug sharply into his palms; they would have drawn blood, had he possessed a body.

The red eyes flickered, darkening for an instant before focusing back in on Bakura. They glinted with cruel intent. "You must be weak indeed, to come to _me_ for help with that arrogant little mouse you live with."

"Marik is not a mouse!" Bakura instantly flared.

Dark laughter rumbled the air, the insubstantial ground shaking beneath them. Deep blue flickered through the shadows, searing straight past Bakura and making him flinch despite himself. Bakura cursed.

"Now, now," the demon laughed, voice dark with amusement. "If you seek my help, you'll play my games."

Bakura clenched his teeth. "I'm not _seeking_; I'm _ordering_. I need a body for Marik's dark form. Make it happen."

"You dare challenge me?" The demon was suddenly flat, all amusement gone. The shadows grew and rumbled threateningly, swirling around Bakura, surrounding him with an opaque, unbreakable curtain. "What's to say I will ever let you out?"

Despite himself, cold fear gripped Bakura's heart at the threat in those words.

"I should have devoured you eons ago," the demon continued, words purring straight into Bakura's ear. The shadows caressed him, wrapping around his arms and legs, anchoring him in place.

Bakura remained calm. His brown eyes were like shards of ice in his face, jagged and unforgiving, ignoring the darkness pressing against him. His tone was even and undisturbed. "You need me."

Silkiness ran up Bakura's limbs. He glanced down, watching as darkness enveloped his false pale skin, caressing him almost lovingly. The demon's dark voice purred again, slowly, straight into Bakura's mind. "For now, soul-sharer."

Bakura closed his eyes. "So we have a deal."

"What will you give me in return?" Red eyes danced, shoots of amber and black running like veins through them as they stared cruelly at Bakura.

Bakura clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "You already have my body, soul, and life. You will get nothing more from me."

Darkness pressed against Bakura's every limb, surrounding him, completing him. It merged with his own mind, sitting heavily in his memoires, shrouding them and replacing them with dark, twisted thoughts. Humming filled his head, a loud buzzing that rang straight through his ears.

Zorc laughed. "Then I suppose we have a deal."

Bakura almost visibly sagged with relief; only his iron control kept his spine ramrod straight, his lips twisting into a sneer. "A pleasure doing business with you." Turning on his heel, Bakura strode out of the shadows, his black coat clinging to his clothes in a way reminiscent of the shadows that still swirled around his limbs. The white of his hair was a startling contrast.

Chilling laughter echoed through the Ring, loudest inside Bakura's very mind. "Have your fun with the little mouse, but remember that you belong to me. When the time is right, you will be my path into this world, and when I am Lord of the Universe do not expect me to be merciful. None shall survive. You will watch as your world burns."

Bakura stopped. Brown eyes hardened, darkness swirling in their depths as forbidden memories were thrust to the forefront of his mind. Flames flickered, the screams of childhood friends. Darkness and pain and torment and loss and then the glint of gold in the sunrise and he was alone, so alone, always and forever alone...

"Bakura?"

A golden head. Brown skin. Violet eyes turned upwards in hope, arms folded across knees as Marik curled up in the shadows, his expression angry and hard despite the fear hidden in his posture. "Is that you?"

Forcefully pushing away the darkness in his skull and ignoring the cruel laughter, Bakura strode out of the remainder of the shadows and crouched in front of Marik. Carefully, he brushed blond hair away from a soft forehead, stroking the brown skin that he had come to know better than his own.

"It's me."

...

Ryou sagged against the wall with a low hiss, the wounds on his back still bleeding profusely. Black spots were beginning to dance in his vision and his limbs felt weak and weary, like he had attempted lifting a tree from its roots deep in the earth. How long had it been now since he was injured? It had to be morning by now. Ryou's eyes fluttered closed with exhaustion.

"Wake the fuck up!" Hands gripped urgently onto Ryou's shoulders, shaking him with a hidden desperation. Cold metal grazed his hand, sharp blade just teasing the thinly veiled veins.

Ryou opened his eyes again, lips parting slightly as he met pained violet eyes. Drawing in a raspy breath, Ryou sat forwards a little, groaning as his back stretched. "Alright, you're going to have to help me."

A snarl tore through brown lips. "Fuck that. You're helping me, not the other way around."

"I'm not going to do you much good when I can't stand." Ryou's eyes slid shut again as the world span drunkenly around him, the cloying smell of blood filling his nostrils and making his stomach churn. He held back a shudder, coughing weakly and wincing at the pain that lanced across his back.

Hands left his shoulders as the dark one stood up, towering over Ryou's crumpled, prone form. Blond hair spiked up jaggedly, making him seem even taller as he glared down at the pale boy sitting at his feet. Ryou sighed. He glanced up at Marik's body, sensing the dark violet eyes boring into him, but the way his vision seemed to be blurring at the edges convinced him that moving really was not an option for him. Ryou drew in a raspy breath. "Help me up to the bed. I need to stop the bleeding."

"I'm not helping you." The dark voice that escaped Marik's lips remained stubborn and cruel. Ryou felt a toe prod his side, rolling him easily onto his back. The world spun around him and he shivered, holding back a scream as his wounds met the carpet, blood pooling beneath his limp body. Violet eyes bored into him.

Ryou looked back and swallowed. "Marik, or whatever your name is, listen to me. I can't help you keep your own body if I'm about to bleed to death."

"I know," growled the dark one. "You can help me, then die. And my name is not Marik."

Ryou's eyes slid closed again as another wave of pain rocketed up his back. His frail body convulsed, writhing against the ground as blood pooled in his hair, sticking the white strands together. Ryou felt repulsed. Dark laughter rang from the towering form over him as he gasped, voice raspy as he managed to pant out vague words. "If you ... let me get too near to death ... you realise that Bakura is ... going to come back, right?"

The laughter ceased immediately. Instead, an angry growl rumbled through the air and a sharp jab hit Ryou in the side, causing another cough to spurt from his chest. Ryou rolled, groaning painfully. Violet eyes met his gaze as Marik's body crouched in front of him, looking beseeching.

Ryou swallowed painfully. "Look, Ma – um – unnamed dark being. At least help me to the bed and get me some bandages, otherwise I'm not going to be conscious enough to help you get rid of Marik."

A begrudging growl sounded through the air before harsh brown hands landed stiffly on Ryou's body, lifting him easily and carelessly off the floor. The breath whooshed out of Ryou's lungs, causing him to cough painfully again, throat searing. The world spun crazily around him as he was carted over to the bed. Ryou held in all noises of complaint, however, even when he was dumped unceremoniously on his back, instantly covering the bedsheets with blood. Ryou allowed himself a silent hiss, rolling onto his side.

"Don't call me Marik." The dark voice was stern, vibrant with emotion that Ryou couldn't place.

Ryou blinked. He twisted, bones aching with weariness as he tried to sit up, succeeding in propping himself up on his elbows. He met the dark one's gaze with a tilt of his head. "What do I call you then?" Ryou's voice cracked a little.

Violet eyes narrowed. "I don't know. Not Marik. I'm not that pathetic little creature."

"Pathetic is not something I would call you," Ryou murmured, a smile twitching his lips despite himself. Wincing, he attempted to move again, lifting his torso up off the bed before the pain became unbearable and he collapsed back down again. He rolled onto his front, burying his head into the pillow. "Well, Not-Marik, can you please get me some bandages, before I bleed to death?"

"Kekeke." A dark chuckle slipped into the air before a swish off a purple cloak blew a puff of air into Ryou's face. Prying his brown eyes open, Ryou watched as the tall, broad form of Marik's twisted body left the room, returning soon enough with bandages extended. Ryou took them, wincing a little as he sat up fully. The pain brought water to his eyes.

Wincing but refusing to show his weakness, Ryou dropped the bandages and instead pulled at the hem of his shirt, beginning to tug it up over his head. He folded the material, carefully placing it on the bed, and scooped up the bandages again, beginning to wrap them around his chest. "Kek is a strange sound for a laugh," he murmured conversationally. "Maybe that's what I should call you."

Dark violet eyes narrowed. "Why do I need a name?"

"You're a person, right?" Ryou winced as a bandage snagged on his wound but he kept going, sucking in a sharp breath. "People need names, especially if you want to be separate from Marik."

"I don't _want _to be; I _am_ separate," snarled the dark voice. The bed creaked a little as Marik's heavy body sat, cloak flaring and blond hair wild. Ryou almost smiled, because the violet eyes that peeked out at him were full of almost childlike indignation.

Ryou tied off the bandages and sat up a little straighter, pleased that the bleeding had stopped. He could cope with the pain now that he didn't feel as if he would faint if he moved too fast. "I know, Kek."

"So get him out." Eyes narrowed as Marik's body glowered at Ryou, brows heavy over his dark eyes. "You promised."

Ryou looked back, biting his lower lip. He shifted, vision still dotting occasionally before he attempted to speak. "Yes, I will help you."

"So hurry up!" The dark voice was turning almost desperate.

Ryou sighed, settling back in his seat a little more as he tried to close his eyes. "I will. But I have to make sure Bakura isn't going to hear first."

"Fuck that spirit," Kek growled. "You promised."

"I just want to make sure he's still with Marik." Ryou's head drooped slightly.

"He and that pathetic little _thing_ can go to hell!" Kek's voice was a dangerous roar, shattering the glass-like air around them. "They think they can be together, that they can escape my wrath? I'll show them right now! I can drag them apart and never let them be together ever again!"

Ryou watched with widened eyes as Kek threw himself upright, heavy footsteps storming around the room. The Rod waved wildly through the air as Kek gesticulated, his dark glare almost tangibly sizzling the rancid air before him. "They don't deserve happiness, for what they've done to us. I'm going to split them up. Marik can get the fuck out of that Ring right now."

Ryou's eyes widened. His jaw dropped open, a puff of amazed air blowing out between his lips as he watched Marik's body fall utterly still, eyes sliding shut. He was sure he hadn't imagined that.

Kek had said 'us'.

...

Bakura crouched in front of Marik, running his hands gently through his golden, limp hair. Marik was looking frailer with every passing moment, his skin turning an unhealthy ashen grey and his violet eyes dimming a little in the ever encroaching darkness. Something in Bakura's chest twisted to see Marik looking as lifeless as this.

Marik blinked, his expression still hard as he stared into Bakura's eyes. "What did you do?"

"I fixed this mess." Bakura's voice was a dark rasp, uncomfortably close to the pitch of the demon he had just come from. With a shake of his head, Bakura banished the shadows and sat, pulling Marik up into his lap once more.

Marik sent him a slightly incredulous look. "You fixed it? That easily?"

"I wouldn't call it _easy_," Bakura chuckled quietly, "But yes."

Marik pursed his lips. He twisted slightly in Bakura's grip, placing tanned hands on black-coated shoulders so he could get a better look at Bakura's expression. Marik's tone was suspicious. "I don't believe you."

"You never do." Bakura allowed himself a small eye-roll, smirk lifting one corner of his lips. He hugged Marik close to his chest, resting in his shoulder so that white hair streamed down both their chests. "What's your dark half doing now?"

Marik's eyes closed and he sighed, wrapping arms carefully around Bakura's back. "I don't know and I don't care. He can just fuck off back to hell." Warmth surrounded Bakura as Marik nuzzled closer again, both of them holding tightly onto the other, reminding themselves that they still existed even without their physical forms.

"Just check on him for me," Bakura muttered. "I need to make sure he hasn't killed my host."

"So check for yourself." Marik prodded Bakura's side once before allowing his eyes to distance once more. The shadows roiled around them, pooling hungrily and approaching ever closer, swirling around the two entwined forms cradled together in the darkness. Bakura watched them lazily; they were the closest thing to 'home' he had ever known.

A startled gasp escaped Marik's lips.

Bakura moved in an instant, holding Marik's head away from him so he could examine Marik's expression. Marik's brown skin was grey and flat, his violet eyes still closed as his hands gripped onto Bakura's shoulders. Bakura gave him a small shake. "Marik?"

Another gasp broke through Marik's lips and his eyes suddenly flew wide open. His grip became impossibly tight on Bakura's shoulders, nails digging into the black coat sharp enough to rip holes in the fabric. He drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. "No!"

"What is it?" Bakura gave him another shake but, as he did so, Marik's hands suddenly disappeared from his shoulders. Watching with horror encompassing his expression, Bakura saw Marik glance down at his hands with wide, frightened eyes. Shadows wrapped around brown skin with a harsh, cruel intent, hiding it from view and continuing up Marik's arms. Darkness was suddenly everywhere, pulling at Marik's torso and legs, swirling around his thin, frail form with frightening intensity, lifting him up and away from Bakura before he knew what was happening. The last thing Bakura saw were wide, terrified violet eyes watching him before Marik was engulfed in a whirlwind of moving shadows that whipped the air into a towering frenzy, knocking Bakura over onto his back as wind whipped his hair wildly. A scream of "BAKURA!" echoed through the air, jagged spikes of sound hitting Bakura's ears. He leapt to his feet, staring in shock at the frenzy of moving shadows, searching desperately for any sign of Marik, but the swirling shadows collapsed back down to the ground, leaving the dark realm empty of life and colour. A dark chuckle floated through the air. "Kekekeke!"

Bakura stared in stunned shock. The air was still again, empty and bleak, shrouded in encroaching darkness with absolutely no hint that a bright young Egyptian had been here moments before. Bakura stood with his fists tightly clenched, staring at the spot where Marik had disappeared. He ran forwards, eyes scouring the darkness desperately. "Marik?!"

Nothing met him but emptiness.

Bakura cursed loudly, screaming obscenities into the shadows. He strode through the darkness, fury tightening his muscles and forcing his body to curve in on itself. The Ring was empty, echoing back his own thoughts, and it was clear that Marik had disappeared.

"Ryou!" Bakura bellowed, his usually silky voice rough with worry. "What's going on? Where is Marik?!"

There was nothing from the pathetic host currently in control of the body. Bakura cursed under his breath, closing his eyes as he willed himself back into the body. There was a surprised shriek from Ryou but it took hardly any effort on Bakura's part to knock him aside, locking him securely back in his soul room as Bakura took charge of the body again. Dull pain rocketed along his back, but it was much less than Bakura expected.

Blinking open Ryou's brown eyes, Bakura found himself sitting up on his and Marik's bed, facing the twisted and warped form of Marik's body. Its back was too Bakura so all he could see was crazily spiked blond hair and a wild, untailored cloak. Giving a low growl, Bakura leaned forwards, surprised to feel bandages tight around his chest. "What the fuck have you done with Marik?"

Marik's body stiffened before spinning around, dark violet eyes narrowed. Even at this distance, Bakura could tell that there was something abhorrently wrong with seeing Marik's body without Marik in control. Dark violet eyes matched Bakura's expression, Marik's lips twisting in horror. "You're the wrong one!"

Bakura blinked before actually breaking into cruel laughter. "Don't tell me you were expecting my pathetic host?"

"It's his body!" Marik's body flew across the room, knocking Bakura back onto the bed and crawling on top of him. The air whooshed out of Bakura's lungs in surprised huff. He narrowed his gaze, attempting to push Marik's body off him, but the golden glint of the Rod was soon at his throat. Dark violet eyes stared almost panicked at Bakura. "Get him back out here!"

Bakura arched a brow. "Shut up. I have a proposition for you."

A harsh snarl ripped from Marik's throat as the Rod's blade dug into Bakura's throat again. He growled, lifting pale hands to grab the tanned wrists he knew so well, hating that they belonged to someone other than his Marik. Everything about this situation was wrong.

Marik's body stilled over Bakura's.

Bakura spoke quickly, words spilling into the small gap between their faces. "I can get you your own body. Get out of Marik's and leave him alone, and I will give you your own physical form. You can live in this world, but you had better get the fuck out of our lives and never return."

Dark violet eyes blinked.

Bakura sucked in a quiet breath, trying not to betray the hammering of his heart. He propped himself carefully up on his elbows, manoeuvring out from under the Rod so he could be at eye level with Marik's body. He still detested seeing the dark spirit behind Marik's eyes.

The dark voice sounded close to Bakura's ear. "You can get me a body?"

"All of your own." Bakura attempted not to roll his eyes, instead lowering his lashes.

The silence was tangible as Marik's dark form thought it over, his jaw shifting in confusion. He didn't move off Bakura, keeping the Rod evident between them as he leaned closer, brows furrowing and breath hot over Bakura's face. "Why?"

"Why the hell do you think?" Bakura couldn't hold back a derisive snort. "I need Marik."

"Don't even speak that name around me," the low voice growled. The Rod was suddenly pressed back up against Bakura's throat, digging in under his chin and reopening the scratches already there.

Incredulity crawled over Bakura's features. He tilted his head, swallowing around the metal of the Rod as he moved himself up a little more, trying to get the huge weight on his chest off him a little. "I offered you a body. You should be biting my hand off."

"I can if you want." The tone turned dark as Marik's jaws snapped playfully at Bakura's wrist.

Bakura rolled his eyes. He irritably jerked his wrist away and met Marik's gaze again, expression cold. "The offer stands. Take it or leave it, but don't wait too long or I might change my mind."

Marik's eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Don't threaten me."

"Take it," Bakura purred, voice low, "Or leave it."

A loud snap rang through the air as Marik's jaws were ground together. The dark one gazed out, low hiss escaping his lips as he leaned closer, growling lowly into Bakura's ear. "You need to get one, too."

"What?" The incredulous word slipped uncontrolled out of Bakura's mouth.

The Rod grazed Bakura's neck. "You get a body too." Dark violet eyes were deadly serious as they stared into Bakura's.

"The fuck are you on?" Bakura snarled. "I have a body."

"It isn't yours." Marik's dark form gazed evenly into Bakura's eyes.

Bakura laughed aloud. "And you care because?"

"It isn't right." The Rod dug into Bakura's skin slightly, the dark voice firm and unforgiving.

"I should not have let my pathetic host talk to you." Bakura growled, attempting to pull away.

Marik's wrist slammed into Bakura's shoulder, holding him firmly down against the sheets. A low growl rumbled in his throat, dark violet eyes flashing as they seared into Bakura's. "His name is Ryou. And mine is Kek."

"What?!" Bakura stared, genuinely stunned. He shook his head.

The Rod dug sharply into Bakura's neck. "You release Ryou and get a body of your own, or you are never seeing Marik again."

Bakura snarled, fury marring his expression as he clawed the bedsheets. The Rod at his neck severely impeded his movements, but he swore in his head that if he could, he would be strangling the stupid dark spirit to death faster than an owl swoops up a mouse.

"Well?" The Rod pushed into pale skin. A trickle of blood ran down his throat.

Bakura coughed, snarled, and snapped his jaw shut. When he spoke, it was between gritted teeth.

"Fine. You have a deal."

**The name 'Kek' for Yami Marik is Miss Macabre Grey's, and Zorc calling Marik 'mouse' comes from an RP I have with FanGirl16. Thank you to both of them for letting me pinch their names, and sorry to Grey for writing deathshipping almost identically to the way you do! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for reading and being patient with my slow updates! - Jem**


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